


Into the Fire

by lacqueluster (GG_and_MM)



Series: Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Sex, Smut, Smut Appreciation Day, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:07:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GG_and_MM/pseuds/lacqueluster
Summary: One you and Gabriel confess your feelings to each other, how will it change things between you? Where will you go from here? How will Sam and Dean react?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This follow up fic was suggested by my beta, to explore the differences between sex without feelings and sex with someone you care about. While I think the first fic is hot, I find sex with feelings much more enjoyable, so I think I'm partial to this one. Hope you all enjoy!

Finally revealing your feelings to Gabriel had been both liberating and nerve wracking. While you were relieved you didn’t have to hide anymore, not having to avert your thoughts or control your emotions in his presence to keep him from catching them, you still aren’t sure where this puts you. 

 

You’ve both been hesitant with each other the last two days. He’s around, stealing a chaste kiss here and there in the kitchen, winking at you from behind Dean, but you get the feeling he’s just as unsure with how to proceed as you are. And he’s left you alone at night to rest, knowing you need to sleep until the research on this case is done. 

 

The longer you go without talking to him about things the more nervous you get. Butterflies flip in your stomach when you see him, and he seems to know it, a smile playing at his lips. You try to ignore him as you sit hunched over the laptop. He sits in an armchair of the library, one leg flung over the arm, swinging casually. He’s tossing skittles up into the air and catching them in his mouth. 

 

You sigh. 

 

“What’s wrong, sugar?”

 

“Nothing,” you massage your temples, knowing full well that’s a lie. “It’s just, I want to be done with this case. There’s nothing that makes any sense, nothing matches the killing style or the symbols at the scenes, it’s all a bunch of crap.” You stand and stretch your arms above your head and then flop back in the chair. 

 

The screen is blurry, your eyes are so tired. “I don’t want to look at this computer again for a week. I want to,” you glance at him, seeing those gold eyes watching you, “I don’t even know what I want.” 

 

Yes you do, and he knows it. You want to be alone with him, explore where you both are after your confessions of feelings. You push the laptop away for a second. “Maybe I could look in some books.” You look around the library shelves and groan internally. Where the hell would you even start?

 

Sam rushes through the door. “Hey, we got a lead on the case,” he’s tugging a jacket on his shoulders, grabbing his laptop from where it sits opposite yours. 

 

“Seriously?” You stand in surprise. 

 

“Yeah, there’s a girl in Mississippi that managed to escape. All the same symbols at the shack she was being held in. Of course the cops think she’s suffering from PTSD, they don’t believe a word she’s saying.” 

 

“What do you need me to do? Should I come with you? Do you need me to research while you travel?” 

 

Sam shakes his head. “No, we’re out of here in the next fifteen minutes. We’ve got at least an eight hour drive, maybe more. Take a break, get some rest. We’ll call you after we’ve checked out the scene and talked to the girl.” 

 

Your mind does the math. That gives you probably twelve hours. Your eyes flick to Gabriel. 

 

“Okay, well, let me know if you need me to do anything in the meantime.” 

 

Sam nods, kissing you on the cheek quickly. “Thanks,” he says, and then he heads off to his room to throw some things together. 

 

You turn to Gabriel, arms crossed over your chest. “Did you do something to get them out of here?” 

 

Gabriel looks offended at the implication. “Wasn’t me,” he says, standing from his chair.

 

“You swear?” 

 

He closes the distance between you slowly, his hands skimming up and down your sides when he reaches you. He looks amused.

 

You look directly into his eyes, not letting him get out of the question. 

 

“Is it proper for angels to swear? I’m not sure I should go there, what if it causes the next ice age? A volcanic eruption? Never know what things like that can do.” He rolls his eyes when you don’t even crack a smile. “Fine, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to die, all that jazz. It wasn’t me.” 

 

You want to smile but you half smother it, finally letting yourself lean into him. Your arms wrap around his waist and you rest your head on his shoulder with a sigh. Tension melts out of you at his touch. 

 

One of his hands cradles the back of your head. He sways a little on his feet, rocking back and forth. “I’ve wanted you in my arms for days,” he whispers. 

 

Excitement fans in your belly at those words, and then nerves flare too. “We should probably talk about things, right?” You ask into his shoulder.

 

“We could,” he says, his voice teasing, “I’ve got lots of other ideas though, that involve minimal words. It’s your call.” 

 

Someone clears their throat in the doorway, gruff and irritated. When you step back Dean is glaring at you and the archangel. 

 

“We’re leaving, but don’t think that when we get back we’re not talking about,” he raises a hand and motions between you and Gabriel, “this. Whatever this is. I’m not sure I even wanna know.” He turns and stomps up the stairs. 

 

You look back at Gabriel, eyes wide. 

 

“I think your Dad’s mad,” he says seriously. 

 

You laugh and slap his arm. “Shut up, you idiot.” 

 

“Oh,  _ now  _ you want me to shut up, weren’t you begging for conversation a minute ago?” 

 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, and you grab his hand and lead him down the hall toward the bunker bedrooms. 

 

You pass Sam in the hallway and he looks curiously at you dragging Gabriel to your room by the arm. He doesn’t comment though, just raises his eyebrows. 

 

“Be careful, Sam,” you tell him, and then close your door behind Gabriel. 

 

Gabriel stands by your bed, turning to look at you standing in front of the door. He looks you over from top to bottom, and waits. He seems to be letting you decide what happens next. 

 

You’re not sure how to proceed. On the one hand, talking would be good, figuring out where you stand, where things are going. On the other hand that cocky look on his face makes you want to rip his clothes off. 

 

He smirks and you know he caught that thought. 

 

“You hear that one?” you ask. 

 

He raises an eyebrow and purses his lips. He doesn’t answer. 

 

“So, how do I know what thoughts you can hear and what you can’t?” You step a little closer, but keep your distance. If he gets his hands on you there probably won’t be much talking happening. 

 

He smiles and glances at the floor. He must have heard that too. 

 

He clears his throat. “I don’t hear everything you’re thinking. It’s just flashes, usually things with strong feelings behind them. Sex is hard to block out. When people think about sex it’s loud.” He smiles. “Being around Dean is fun sometimes.”

 

That makes you laugh. “Yeah, I can imagine that gets interesting.” 

 

“Interesting is an understatement. You have no idea how much anime is bouncing around in ‘ol Deano’s head.” 

 

You cringe. “I don’t need to know those things, Gabe.” 

 

He holds his hands up in a small mock surrender. 

 

“So you knew right when I started having feelings for you?” If you’re going to ask these things you might as well get it out there front and center. You’ve been wondering this since it’s been out in the open. 

 

“Not really. You were pretty conflicted at first, I didn’t know what was going on. Once you accepted it and decided to hide it? That’s when it got a little clearer.”

 

“When did you start feeling something?” 

 

“Before you did,” he says.

 

His blunt answer throws you. You hadn’t expected that. You close the distance between you in a few steps and kiss him, your hands pulling him closer by his shirt. 

 

His arms are around you in an instant. He manages to unsnap your bra from outside your shirt, which takes some talent, you have to admit. You’re laughing into the kiss as you playfully push him away. 

 

“Slow down, geez,” you chastise him, “is that all you think about -- sex?” 

 

He crosses his arms like a scolding parent. “Really? Don’t forget how many times a day I catch your little thoughts about sex.” 

 

You put on your serious face. “We’re supposed to be talking about feelings.” 

 

“You kissed me, remember?” He flops himself back on your bed, crossing his ankles. “Okay, feelings. We have them, we’re going to figure them out, what else should we say?”

 

That’s a good question. What else is there to say? You’re not sure. This hasn’t been going on long, it’s still pretty new, you’re scared to even mention the “L” word at this point. 

 

His eyebrows raise. 

 

_ Shit. _ He caught that. Your hand moves to your mouth and you clear your throat. It might be nice if he didn’t give some kind of cue every time he hears a thought. Maybe you’d be better off not knowing what he catches. 

 

He leans forward, reaching out to take on of your hands in his. He pulls you closer to him where he sits on the bed, studying your fingers. 

 

“Listen, sweetheart,” he starts. 

 

This can’t be good, not with a serious start like that. He won’t even look at you now. One thought about the “L” word has blown this whole thing up and it’s all your fault. 

 

He looks up at you. “Calm down, you’re getting worked up over nothing.” 

 

He hears a lot more of your thoughts than you ever realized. That’s an unsettling conclusion to come to. 

 

He goes on. “What I was going to say,” he pointedly looks at you, probably trying to get you to stop thinking. Like that’s possible. “Is that I said a long time ago that I’d never fall in love.”

 

You pull your hand back. Why did you have to fucking think about love? Of all the damn things. You want to cry now. This is all so stupid. Hell, you don’t even know if you love  _ him _ , but knowing the possibility of him loving you is off the table hurts you in a way you hadn’t imagined. 

 

An ache blooms in your chest, one you haven’t felt in a long time. It hurts. It makes you want throw up. It makes you angry. It makes you want to run away. 

 

“Stop,” he stands quickly, hand tipping your chin up. He almost looks angry. “stop  _ thinking _ so much and let me finish.” 

 

You give a short, hesitant nod. 

 

“I’ve avoided love for a long, long time. I didn’t want any ties, any weakness, you understand? And I’m not saying that’s what this is, but what I  _ am _ saying is that if that’s where this goes, if that’s where _ we _ go, then I’m not gonna bolt. Got it?”

 

That’s… Well, it’s a better answer than what you expected, that’s for sure. It makes you smile a little, and the ache in your chest eases.  

 

You nod up at him and smile. “Yeah,” you nod, “I think I got it.” 

 

“That’s my girl,” he says, and you ignore those damn butterflies again. 

 

His hands are warm as they slide up the back over your shirt, feeling skin. You snake your arms around his shoulders, fingers sliding through the soft curls at the base of his neck. You press as close to him as you can and he hums. 

 

“Can we stop talking now?” He asks. 

 

“Shut up and kiss me,” you tease. 

 

“I thought you’d nev--” you cut him off by pressing your mouth to his and the words turn to a muffled, “rrmmmff.” 

 

He breaks apart for a second to pull your shirt and bra off in a quick sweeping motion, and then his hands are on your ass to pull you into him again. 

 

You work at the buttons on his shirt, but it’s an impossible task when you’re both this close. You give up, instead just sinking into him, feeling the warmth of his hands on your back. He holds you close as he backs into the bed and falls back, you landing on top of him. 

 

He kisses your neck when you laugh, and then rolls you both onto your sides. Now your hands can get to his shirt, and they make short work of it. He does the same with your jeans. You’re both pulling, undressing each other, clothes flying around your room. 

 

Things slow down a little once your skin is bare to each other. There’s no rush, after all, you have the bunker to yourselves. He kisses almost every inch of you, down your neck, your arms, your ribs, belly, legs, lips pressing to sensitive skin. He knows where you want him to touch you the most, but he doesn’t. 

 

When his hands slides down low on your belly you raise your hips, spread your legs. His hand moves to your hip. When his mouth gets close to your nipple you arch up, hands in his hair, and he kisses away, off to your collarbone. 

 

You don’t touch him either, both playing the same game. When your fingers brush the top of the tight curls above his cock he moans, and your hand slowly roams back up to caress his face. It drives you both crazy. 

 

He chuckles a little when you push him to his back, throwing a leg over his waist. 

 

“A little eager, aren’t we?” 

 

“If eager means horny, then yes.” You don’t touch him, not yet. You can feel the heat of his dick between you, feel the slick of the precome leaking out. The ache between your legs grows.

 

His hands grab your ass, pressing you down and managing to slide you along his cock ever so slightly. He closes his eyes.    
  


“You like that?” you whisper into his ear. 

 

He opens his eyes, his face just inches from yours. His eyes are so strange, so beautiful, especially this close up. He doesn’t answer, he knows he doesn’t have to. 

 

“Sit up a little,” you tell him, moving to the side.

 

He never questions you at times like this, just does as you ask. He shifts up the bed, sticking two pillows behind his head. He gets comfortable, and you take a second just to appreciate him laying there, naked, waiting. 

 

You crawl up him, your waist lining up with his. You’re so wet without even so much as a touch; it’s hard to believe you’re this turned on already. You slip his cock between your folds where it lays flat against his belly. You don’t put it inside, instead you slide yourself up and down the length of it. 

 

Your faces are so close together. There’s something different in the way he looks at you this time. Before, when you’d look at each other, someone always looked away after a couple seconds. Now it’s like he doesn’t want to look away, or he can’t. It’s like he doesn’t want to see anything but you.

 

He watches you as you move on him. He watches your mouth part as the head of his cock hits your clit. He rubs his thumb across your bottom lip. When you close your eyes he kisses your temple, his hands cupping your face. 

 

This is different. This is more intimate. This is almost overwhelming. 

 

You watch him as you grind down harder. His eyebrows raise, his eyes half hooded. You can see how good it feels, it shows in the way his face tenses and relaxes, the way he can’t stop touching your face. 

 

The grinding is driving you mad. It’s enough to get you  _ almost _ there, but not quite. You want him inside you, but you don’t want it over yet. Not yet. 

 

He suddenly sits up more, his arms wrapping low and tight around your back to keep you balanced. His cock shifts, the head resting just against your entrance, and he holds you in place by your hips. 

 

“Was that going to get you off?” he asks, referring to the previous position. 

 

“No,” you admit, “it felt good though.” 

 

“Mmm,” his hands tighten at your waist, “you always feel good.” 

 

You sink down onto his cock, slowly, your head falling down to rest on his shoulder. The feel of him filling you up is incredible. 

 

“Of fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.” His voice is so soft you barely hear him.  

 

When you start to move he pulls your head up, hand in the back of your hair to hold it there. His eyes close for a beat or two, and then open again, watching. While one hand holds your head the other roams your back, your side, pinches a nipple. He takes in every move you make, every sigh, every moan. 

 

“Wanna watch you,” he says, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, “so beautiful.” 

 

You ride him, slow, long, feeling his cock slide in and out. You want to come. You don’t ever want to stop. 

 

“Gabe,” you whisper. 

 

“I know,” his hand slips down between your legs, fingers finding your clit to circle. “I know what you need.” 

 

You close your eyes, you can’t keep them open now. He does know what you need, he always does. “Please.” You don’t need to beg, he’s so close to making you come you can feel it building. You say it again, “Please,” and you’re not asking him, not really. You’re just so desperate for it that you can’t help it. 

 

You come, hearing him moan as you clench around his cock. You practically sob with the release of it, your hips and body jerking. He works you through it, slowly, gently, and then he holds you when you collapse into him. 

 

You let him lay you to the side, rolling to your back, spreading your legs so he can settle between them. He guides himself back into you, slowly, gently. 

 

“Oh God,” you whine. You’re so sensitive, so swollen. It feels so good. 

 

One hand cradles your head again as he starts thrusting. He goes easy at first, pressing kisses to your mouth, your cheekbones. His forehead rests on yours as he speeds up. 

 

You pull your legs up higher, let him go in deeper, and he grits his teeth. He’s close. 

 

His free hand hits your clit again and you don’t think you can take it. You came so hard before, you won’t be able to come again, you just know it. He doesn’t stop, fingertip brushing back and forth, working the swollen nub exactly how you like it. 

 

He knows when you’re getting close, his thrusts get deeper, harder. Your hands grip his shoulders, back, grabbing at his ass, trying to hold on. 

 

“I got you,” he whispers to you, “come for me.” 

 

When you come you see stars behind your eyelids, crying out from how intense it is. He tries to bury himself deeper but it’s not possible, and then you can feel his cock twitching as he comes. He hissses, his hand on the back of your head fisting tightly in your hair. When his hips finally stop stuttering into you he relaxes, weight pushing you down into the mattress. 

 

“That was different,” you say after a few moments of silence. 

 

His fingers massage the back of your head. “Better or worse?” 

 

You smile. It may not have been the quick romp in the sack the two of you were used to before, but it sure as hell wasn’t bad. 

 

“Better.” There was a connection between you this time. Something deeper, something with meaning. It was absolutely better than before. 

 

“Funny,” he raises his head to look down at you, “I didn’t think I could get any better.” He kisses the tip of your nose. 

 

You tickle his ribs. “Me either, but I don’t think you were the only one who got better.” 

 

He rolls off of you, relaxing by your side. “So what are we going to tell the wonder Winchester’s?”

 

You laugh a little, and then think on it. That’s a good question. What are you going to tell them? 

 

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I guess we tell them the truth? It started as fun, blow off some steam sex, and now it’s… more?” 

 

He nods, both of you thoughtful, and eventually you slip into a nap. 

 

Things get busy while the guys are on a case. They call to have you look things up, send them pictures from research books, whatever they need. The next few days are spent mostly with your phone in your hand, your nose in a book or staring at a laptop. Gabriel entertains himself, mostly. Sometimes he teases you. Sometimes he distracts you long enough for each of you to get off, and then you’re right back to it.

 

When the boys are on their way home the nerves start. Why you’re nervous about talking to Sam and Dean about this you can’t say, other than you know they probably won’t approve. But it’s not like you need their permission. A blessing isn’t necessary. Is it? No, it’s not. Or so you think. 

 

When they stroll through the door, duffel bags slung over their shoulders, you have to wipe sweat off your hands. Gabriel watches you from where he’s sprawled on the couch, blowing bubbles with his gum. “It’s okay, sugar,” he says. 

 

“What’s okay?” Dean asks, tossing his heavy bag down. 

 

“She’s afraid she’s in trouble with her Dad’s,” Gabriel replies, sitting up. 

 

Sam and Dean raise their eyebrows at that. 

 

“Gabe, shut up,” you shoot him a look. 

 

“Oh, you mean about,” Dean motions between you and Gabriel. “Yeah, we need to talk about that, because it’s not happening. I already told Sam that we’re laying the law down.” Dean looks directly at you. “You’re not getting hurt by this flying winged douche--”

 

“Watch it, Deano,” Gabriel warns. 

 

Dean holds his hands up. “Yeah, okay, so he’s helped us a time or two, we let him hang out here, whatever, but this is no--” 

 

“Dean,” Sam interrupts, “I think maybe we should hear them out.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes, looking excitedly at Sam. “Why do you always have to do that? I said we were putting our foot down. This is over before it starts, that’s what I said. Now, here you are, you’re making me look like the bad guy. I can’t always be the bad guy, you know that right?”

 

Sam looks so confused. “You know we’re not really her Dad’s right?”

 

You swallow, the lump in your throat almost choking you. “Listen guys, let me explain,” you start, and then you have no idea what to say.  “This, uh, this thing, between Gabriel and I, it’s just, it kind of started as fun? You know? Like, blowing off some steam? And then, um. Well, we didn’t mean for it to happen, but these, we both kind of have these feelings.” You look between the brothers. Dean looks pissed. Sam looks worried. 

 

“Feelings?” Dean asks. 

 

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know. It’s just, it’s--” You finally look to Gabriel, desperate for help. 

 

He stands from the couch and strolls over. His arm slips behind your back, slung low, just above your hips, his fingers gripping your side tightly, possessively, where Sam and Dean can see. That might not be good. 

 

You shift your eyes to the floor. 

 

“Listen, boys,” Gabriel says, and you can already hear it in his voice. That calm, cocky air that he gets. He’s about to say something that will piss them off. You just know it.  _ Shit. _ “I appreciate your concern here, I really do. It’s cute. The thing is, I love her. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m sure as hell not gonna hurt her. So back off.”

 

Sam and Dean have their mouths hanging open in disbelief, eyes wide, looking between you and the angel. Their faces probably look similar to yours. Shocked. 

 

You turn your head to stare at Gabriel and he wiggles his eyebrows, kissing your nose. “We good?” He asks you, and then turns to look at Sam and Dean, directing the question to them. 

 

The boys clear their throats, awkwardly trying to collect their thoughts. 

 

“Yeah, uh, I’m just, I’m gonna go unpack,” Sam says, grabbing his bag. 

 

“Yep,” Dean picks his up too, “that’s, that’s a plan.”

 

Gabriel slaps your ass, the sound ringing through the room as he saunters back to the couch. Your face floods in heat. 

 

“Yeah, no,” Dean says sternly, “that’s not gonna work for me. None of that in common areas. Ever again. Got it?” 

 

Gabriel smirks and you nod. You’d agree to anything just to get him out of the room right now. 

 

Sam and Dean are quiet as they leave, and then you turn to the angel. You walk straight to him on the couch, legs straddling his hips and you sit on his lap, face to face. 

 

“Think I handled them pretty well, how ‘bout you?” He asks, like nothing important just happened. 

 

“I think,” you tug at his jacket, “that I love you too, you ass.” 

 

His hands cup your face, kissing you gently. “I knew it all along,” he winks. 

  
  



End file.
